The Phantom of the Caribbean
by angrypoetess
Summary: poto pirates of the caribbean style! arrgh!
1. Prologue

**A/N: so this is pretty _the pirates of the caribbean_ with poto characters. this will also involve element of the alw musical, kay's phantom and leroux original story.**

**many poto characters will be replacing potc charaters. obivously, erik is the jack sparrow of the story. christine will be will turner (who is actually in this story, only called william brown, and is actually the blacksmith's son). raoul will be a mix of norrignton with all the idiocy of will turner and elizabeth combind. the other poto characters will appear in due time (i hope you love andre and firman when they appear!) some potc characters will be in this, (like i said will is) cotton (cause he's so cool) and mr. brown and the governor. **

**this is following the storyline of potc, but with changes to make it more potoish and to fit my intentions for the story. i am sorry if anyone doesn't like that.**

**so, disclaimers: i really own nothing this time. all characters are property of leroux, kay, webber and bruckheimer or whoever owns potc.**

**oh yeah, all charaters are based on movie potrayels. all lines i use from potc (you'll reconize them)are not mine and imake no claim to them and will not say they are my original creation. they are credited to the scriptwriters.**

**on with the story **

* * *

**The Phantom of the Caribbean**

**Prologue**

The wind was blowing fiercely and the fog was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife. Everyone aboard the ship was tense and rather jumpy, especially Mr. Khan. After all, he knew there were pirates sailing these waters. "Horrible pirates trailing this ship," he told anyone who would listen, which happened to only be his charge, little Christine Daae.

Now standing alone on the deck, Christine tried in vain to peer into the fog. She imagined swashbuckling, bloodthirsty pirates coming out of that fog, swords held aloft and ready to gut whoever was in the way. Christine shivered and pulled her shawl more tightly around herself. Mr. Khan's stories were really starting to spook her. To calm her racing nerves, Christine sang a little ditty she had learned from hanging around the wharfs in London.

"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me 'earties yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me 'earties yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho a pirate's life for me. We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up-"

Christine gasped and stopped singing when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she looked right into the face of Mr. Khan, wrinkled and tan with two jade eyes glaring at her. Christine always felt a bit uneasy around this man, even though she trusted him with her life. Or at least her mother did. Christine always felt there was something this man was hiding. She was forbidden from revealing her surname to this man, calling herself Turner.

"What in the blazes do yer think yer doin'?" he said in his cockney accent. "Doncha' know that cursed pirates sail these water. Don' wanna bring them down on us do ya?"

Before Christine could answer, Admiral Philippe de Changy appeared with his younger brother Raoul. Besides her and Raoul, the only other child on broad was the governor's daughter, the insufferable Carlotta. The girls became enemies the first day they met because Raoul paid more attention to her than Carlotta.

"Mr. Khan, I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop scaring your charge, whom I may reminded you as only been granted passage due to your position on this ship as a sailor" the admiral stated in his usual monotone air of indifference. Though Christine suspected he was genuinely concerned for herself, as he knew her mother had just passed away. He and his brother both knew what that was like.

"She was singin' about pirates, Sir. Bad luck to be singing about pirates in this unnatural fog, mark my words," Mr. Khan looked at Christine as he said this, warning her with a glare

"Consider them marked. You are needed in the galley, be on your way Khan."

"Aye sir," Mr. Khan walked off, but Christine was sure that she heard him say, "its also bad luck to have a woman on board, even a miniature one."

As soon as Mr. Khan was out of earshot, Christine turned to Admiral de Changy and said, "I think it would be rather fascinating to meet a pirate."

He looked at her then in that amused, patronizing look that adult fix upon children with when they say something adults find rather stupid. "Think again Miss Turner, they are among the vilest creatures that walk this planet. Lazy, bloodthirsty murderers, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that every pirate gets what he deserves, a short drop and a sudden stop."

Confused, Christine looked at Raoul for a meaning to his brother's words. He answered by pulling the collar of his shirt in the fashion of a noose. Horrified, Christine looked back to the ocean.

The admiral took that as his cue to leave. The girl seemed to value her time alone. He motioned to Raoul and walked off to oversee the goings on of the ship. Raoul waved goodbye and trailed after his brother.

Confident she was alone, Christine took out the pendant she wore on a chain, hidden underneath her gray mourning dress. The gold of the medallion shone even in the dulling fog, the skull design leering at her. What was this thing, this gift her father had sent her, telling her to guard it well? Christine had never met William Daae, nor had he ever acknowledged her or her mother's existence, so it was quite a shock when the necklace came to her on her tenth birthday. Perhaps she would someday know the mystery surrounding this medallion and her father.

_Wait, what was that?_

Christine could have sworn she saw a large black shape in the fog. Squinting, she strained to see through the fog and discover the mysterious object in the water. Suddenly, she caught sight of the most horrifying ship she had ever seen. A ship with black sails, full of holes. The ship looked more like a skeleton then something sturdy. Then she saw it. A flag, waving high above. A black flag with a skull and crossed swords.

_Pirates!_


	2. Chapter 1

**thank you to my reviewers. so, there is some eriky goodness in this chapter (can't you jusy imagine him in jack sparrow's ofit and hair? my erik is beardless by the way), but this chappie mostly establihes who christine is. and one of my favortie invented characters and i own her completly! **

disclaimer: i own nothing. wish i did. mmmm, jack and erik!

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**Chapter One**

Christine gasped and shot straight up in bed as she awoke. The dream had been so vivid this time. Ever since that day at sea, she had occasionally seen the haunting ship with the black, ragged sails in her dreams. Now, the ship was appearing more frequently, to the point where it would visit her nightly. She didn't dare tell Aunt Margaret about her dreams; she would forbid Christine from going down to the docks and listening to the stories the sailors told.

Shaking herself, Christine rose from the bed and dressed herself for the day in a simple, pale green work dress. She skipped putting on a corset today; she was so thin no one would notice and they were dreadfully painful. _The best torture device ever made, the corset is,_ Christine thought to herself, chuckling.

Tying her chocolate brown curls up and tucking the gold medallion she still wore underneath her dress, Christine headed downstairs to the small kitchen from which the most delicious smells were wafting. _Mmm, flapjacks._

Waiting for her in the kitchen was the most beautiful sight on earth: Aunt Margaret in all her matronly, double chinned, plump glory. She had a homely face that was always cheerful, round apple cheeks and a smile that could light up a room. Everyone in Port Royal loved her, she was the best midwife anyone had ever seen and was the most pleasant person to be with. She was also a tremendous pillar of strength. Christine remembered when she first stepped off the ship and into Port Royal. Aunt Margaret was there and took Christine in her arms, welcoming her to her new home. She comforted Christine as she nursed the fresh pain of her mother's death, holding when she cried, shushing away the nightmares. While she never tried to replace Christine's mother, she had become a mother to her more than Isabel Daae, an overpriced whore with a runaway husband, ever had.

She also had the ears of a fox and Christine's light footsteps could not escape Aunt Margaret's keen ears. She smiled her sunny smile and immediately forced Christine to sit down and eat her breakfast. She never liked how skinny Christine was, said it was unhealthy and bad for carrying and birthing babies. Christine didn't mind though, the food that Aunt Margaret cooked was wonderful, ambrosia that wasn't even fit for the king himself. Today however, Christine didn't have her usual ravenous appetite; her dreams were really starting to disturb her.

Aunt Margaret noticed Christine picking at her food and her paler than usual complexion. "Something wrong dearie?"

"Hmm," Christine said, startled out of her musings as to the mystery of the haunted ship. "Oh, no. I'm fine." She took a bite of her breakfast as if to prove her point. "Really, I am."

That satisfied Aunt Margaret for now, but Christine had an inkling that there would be a discussion tonight. Christine abruptly noticed something was missing.

"Where are Uncle James and Will?"

They were usually here in the morning, eating breakfast before heading to the smithy. Why weren't they? Christine was slightly disappointed; she enjoyed talking with her cousin in the morning.

"Oh, they left already." She laughed at Christine's incredulous look. "My dear, it's nearly nine o'clock. You've been sleeping for awhile."

Christine's disappointment over the absence of her cousin turned into shame and embarrassment of her laziness. She had never slept that late before, unless she was sick. "I'm so sorry, Auntie. I honestly didn't mean to, I, I hardly know what came over me, and-"

"Oh tis' nothing to worry about. You were up late anyway, best to let you sleep," Aunt Margaret said, winking in Christine's direction. "Walking out late with a laddie can take the energy out of you." Aunt Margaret chuckled and went back to her work.

Christine felt her face burn, sure that she looked like the usual tomato when she blushed. It was late when she got back from walking with Raoul. She really didn't want to go for that moonlight stroll, as she was completely uninterested in Raoul. And he had tried to kiss her. Without permission! The nerve of that man! It was too bad that Aunt Margaret was determined to see the pair of them married, seeing that she only wanted the best for Christine.

Well, not to sound ungrateful, but Christine wanted to find love and adventure all in one. A man who's unpredictable, strong, like the swashbuckling heroes in the stories the sailors tell. In other words, Christine wanted someone the complete opposite of Raoul.

She finished her breakfast and picked up her basket to fetch fish for dinner. Well, at least she might be able to hear some new stories.

Heading out, Christine wondered if she would ever find the man she wanted.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Erik stood atop the mast of his humble ship, the wind blowing his unruly dreadlocked hair behind him. Well, humble was a very good word to describe his "ship" which was actually a boat. And the bloody thing had a leak.

At least Port Royal was near.

What a nice little town, with nice little ladies and nice ships. Very nice ships. Erik longed to commandeer one of the. Would be a lovely change from this rotting carcass.

As he tossed water out of his boat, Erik noticed three skeletons, all strung up and rotting. With them was the warning, "PIRATES, YE BE WARNED." Erik saluted his brave comrades and took the message to heart, Port Royal was a town he would have to be careful in. Hopefully his appearance wouldn't rouse suspicion. Erik looked like a pirate and he knew it. His hair, beat up tri-corner hat, well worn clothes branded him a pirate just as well as the "P" shaped burn on his arm. His dark brown leather mask was only a nuisance.

Sighing, Erik climbed back on top of the mast of his sinking boat. _Bloody thing!_ Proudly, he sailed into Port Royal and into whatever it had to offer.


	3. Chapter 2

**thanks for the lovely reviews! here's a nice long chappie for ya, and more eriky goodness than previously. this chapter contains mainly backstroy and information vital to the story, but hey, erik's in it! please review.**

**oh one more thing, i probably won't update for another week cause i need to work on my other fanfic a bit and my story on fictionpress. and school started.**

**disclaimer: i own nothing, its all in my mind. grins wickedly the phantom of the caribbean is there, inside my mind. sigh jack sparrow and erik in one!****

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Chapter Two**

The crowds of the wharf market was already crowded with the masses of women going about in their morning shopping, venders selling their wares, children playing in the street. Sailors were tending to the ships, loading goods from England, India and France. The smell of fish and salt was thick and heavy on the air. Voices were carried here and there by the winds of the sea, adding to the jumble of sounds that characterized the market.

So crowded it was, that Christine had already been elbowed twice, nearly tripped on a running child and had an amorous swat place on her behind. Still, Christine loved the market. She loved seeing the same friendly vendors she knew by name (in Port Royal, everyone knew everybody) the same women she saw here. And she didn't mind the smell. It was the smell of the sea, the smell of adventure. The only bad thing about was that it tantalized Christine with what she couldn't have: adventures in the Spanish Main.

She haggled a bit with old Emile, a one eyed fish vendor who lost his right leg to the infamous Phantom of the Caribbean. Or so he claimed. He never did say what he looked like.

Having reached a price that was decent enough for both of them, Christine headed for the east dock. Hopefully Piangi wouldn't be too busy. Christine had quickly taken a liking to the old, corpulent sailor. She had met him first on the crossing from England and he had been the only sailor who would tell Carlotta off for picking on Christine. They had both quickly taken a liking to each other, sharing secrets and providing company for each other on the long journey. He stayed in Port Royal for five years before he had to go off in another crew, but in those five years, he had been her greatest teacher. After she confessed to him her yearning for the sea and adventure, he had given her some old boy's clothes and taught her everything he knew about the sea. She was a quick learner and soon matched him in knowledge of sailing. The only thing she lacked was experience. He even told her that he might someday take her aboard a crew, if he could convince whoever was in charge to allow a woman on board.

Piangi also told the greatest stories. When he wasn't teaching her the ropes of sailing, he would spin wonderful yarns about pirates and savages in the remote islands, even a tale of a sea monster or two. Piangi was known for telling stories and seemed to always have a little crowd of children listening with wide eyes and hanging mouths, clinging on to his every word.

Today was no exception. There he was, in his navy pants, black boots and grey shirt, sitting on a barrel and smoking a cork pipe. There were eight children sitting on the wooden dock at his feet. Christine smiled as she remembered that she used to one of them, dirty and eager for his tales. She still was, except for the dirty part.

"And then, the great monster from the deep lashed his tentacles 'round the ship, crushing it till the boards started a creaking. If it warn't for good old Billy Hardcastle and his harpoon, well, I wouldn't be a telling ye this tale."

The children shuddered as they imagined the giant squid. Christine knew this tale well. It was on of the first he had told her, on that journey from England. She sat her self on a crate near Piangi's audience and waited patiently for her time alone with. He noticed her sitting, for he smiled and said, "Christine lass, lovely to see ye again. Well, ye know all my stories, why don't ye tell me which one to tell next." He didn't need to ask; Piangi knew her favorite story but she would humor him.

"Tell us about the Phantom of the Caribbean."

The children shuddered at this. Although most of them hadn't heard Piangi tell the story, they grew up in fear of the Sea Ghost, as he was also called. Mothers always told their naught children that the Sea Ghost would get him if they didn't behave.

Piangi smiled in a way that only the old and wise can. "Ah, yes now there is a fine story. Very well, lass, ye will have your story.

"No one knows where the Phantom of the Caribbean comes from. Not many have seen him either. Those that have seen him or even spoken with him don't live very long to tell the tale. Those few that have, all say that he's tall, taller than any man you've ever seen. And his eyes are the eyes of the very devil. Great, piercing amber eyes that shone in the dark. No one can hide from those eyes. There are two other ways to identify him. First, he wears on the right side of his face, but so do a lot of people so that's not very much help. But he has a tattoo on his right arm that no one else in the world has, a red skull, with two black eyes, the very image of his unmasked face." The children shuddered and clung to one another at this.

"Now, he's been a preying on ships and towns for nearly twenty years, but in the last ten years, it's gotten worse. It's no longer safe for humble merchant vessels to go out unarmed. As for the towns, its far more dangerous for them. He comes in the dark and attacks without warning, leaving no survivors. He and his crew come and they take what they want and then leave as swiftly as they come." Christine leaned closer to the storyteller, holding the little girl that had climbed into her lap. She loved the terror of this tale, of the intriguing Sea Ghost. No matter how dangerous Piangi made him out to be, she longed to meet him. He seemed so dark and erotic, one who could sweep any woman off her feet.

"As for the ship itself, well, there's a nasty piece of work. Fastest ship in the Caribbean, the Black Pearl is. No ship can catch it or out run it. Once the Sea Ghost sets his eyes on ye, there is no hope for ye. Even though its black sails are tattered and ragged, the whole of the king's navy could never catch that ship."

"Have you ever seen the Black Pearl, Mr. Piangi?" a young lad called Michael asked.

"Once or twice, I've spied it. Gave me the shudders it did. Just seeing it makes ones blood run cold. Isn't that right, lassie," Piangi said, nodding towards Christine.

"You've seen the Pearl?"  
"Where?"

"Did the pirates chase ya?"

"Did you see the Sea Ghost?"

The onslaught of questions grew from the children, all almost as curious as her. Christine crossly glared at Piangi for making her tale her tale. While she could sing every pirate and sailor ditty there was, she was no storyteller. And Piangi knew this.

Sighing, Christine resigned herself to her fate. "Yes, I saw the Pearl when I first came over from England. We were in the middle of the ocean, with the fog all around us. I was alone on the top deck and I saw a ship with ragged black sails and a pirate flag, vanishing into the fog. And, well…that's all."

The children looked very disappointed. Christine suspected they were expecting a sweeping epic with the two ships engaging in a bloody battle and the Sea Ghost himself swinging aboard and taking her prisoner. Well, if any pirate, including the infamous Phantom of the Caribbean, tried to take her prisoner, he would be sore for a week. Or end up missing a few limbs. She had learned swordplay from Will and was just as good as her cousin.

"Well, I think ye kids should be a heading home. Near time for dinner judging by the sun," Piangi said, shooing the children away. They scampered off; already the twins Felicity and Jacob were pushing each other. Christine suspected that they would come home with quite a few mud stains.

When the children had left the dock, Christine turned to Piangi and gave him a huge hug, breathing him his scent of salt and rope. She felt him chuckle his deep bellied laugh as he returned the hug. "Well, I take it that you have missed me lass."

She broke contact from him and looked up at him, smiling at the man who was the closest thing she ever had to a father. "I wanted to come as soon as I heard your ship had come back into Port, but Mrs. Hobbes had a baby and Aunt Margaret needed me to help."

"Eh, its alright lass. No need to make excuses, I know very well you've been running around with the Admiral's brother," he said giving her a wink.

Christine felt a blush creeping on to her cheeks. "Piangi, that's not true. I mean, its true that Captain de Changy has been pursuing me, but I do NOT like him. I've tried to tell him that and he just won't listen. I don't think he believes a woman would ever tell him no."

"Well, that boy's head is rather inflated," Piangi chuckled. However, he grew serious and took on a fatherly demeanor as he saw Christine sigh and sit back down, head in her hands. "What is it lass?"

Christine looked at him with wide, sad eyes. "I just wish things could go back to the way they were when we were children," she confessed. She forgot how talking to Piangi felt. She could pour her soul out to him. "We used to be friends, both getting into mischief together with Will and Meg. We were equals then and he respected me and my intelligence, but now things are different. He thinks I'm an stupid little girl who doesn't know anything and that he's the only one who can take care of me. As if I need to be taken care of! But the truth is, I don't know if anything I do is right. I used to be confident but now I find myself unsure and actually kind of scared. It's like I've realized how truly small I am compared to the world. And its not only that; I've been so restless lately. I want to go out and experience things instead of hearing about them in a story. But I can't because I'm a girl. It's just so frustrating! And it's not fair!"

Piangi sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. "From what ye be telling me lass, its looks like you've got one of the worst cases I've ever seen."

"Of what," Christine inquired, puzzled.

"Of growing up," he replied, smiling gently. "What you're going through is natural for all sixteen year old girls."

"How do you know? You never were a sixteen year old girl," Christine pointed out.

"True, but I do have a grown daughter who was once sixteen."

A sailor from Piangi's crew called out to him, telling him to stop dawdling and come help with the cargo. The pair said their adieus and Christine headed back home with the fish.

She never noticed the dark shadow trailing her.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Erik "docked" his boat with as much dignity he could muster, considering the boat had sunk to the bottom of the bay and only the top of the mast was sticking out.

Sauntering off in search of a good inn wish some good food and other, entertainment, Erik was most annoyed when he was halted by some ponce in a powder wig and a fan boy trailing after him.

"Hold up there you. It's a shilling to tie up your boat." Bloody hell, he even sounded like a ponce! Erik raised his visible eyebrow when he said "tie up". Is that what he called tying up a boat?

Nevertheless, Erik fished in his pocket for a shilling, but froze when the man said he needed to know his name. Even though no one knew his infamous alter-ego, the name Erik Destler was still among the most wanted pirates in the Spanish Main.

Pulling out three shillings, Erik said, "Why don't we make it three shillings, and we'll forget the name."

The man looked incredulously for a moment, then back at the three shillings placed on his book. A greedy gleam shone on the ponce's eyes. "Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Smith."

Erik nodded and went on his way, snatching the leather purse on the ponce's desk.

_Mr. Smith has a nice ring to it. Need a first name though. Oh, Angel will do nicely. Lower the suspicion among these holier than thou types._

Erik cockily strutted through the wharf market of Port Royal. Such a busy place, and attentions seemed fall prey to the wares of the vendors.

Quite a few people seemed to be losing their purses today.

They were all wholesome, ordinary, boring folk with no sense of adventure. Even the sailors lacked the spirit that was found in pirates. It was just a dull rock full of over dressed soldiers and dull townspeople.

_Hold on just a minute._

From the corner of his eye, Erik spied possibly the loveliest sight he had ever seen. She couldn't be more than sixteen, a young girl blossoming into womanhood her face was a fine, porcelain beauty with deep brown doe eyes. But it wasn't her beauty, or how well her green dress fit her, that caught Erik's eye.

It was the wildness he saw in her. It seemed to him that there was a tiger underneath that demure shell. Her walk was full of energy, yet seemed uncomfortable with the land. Once or twice he caught her gazing longingly out to the sea. Even her hair, a wild mass of chocolate curls that shone with a red tint, seemed to be straining to be free from its confining ribbon. In short, she looked trapped in a lifestyle that didn't suit her. The makings of a pirate.

There was also something very familiar about her, but Erik couldn't put his finger on it.

Erik tailed the girl down to a dock where a ship was unloading. He hid behind a large stack of crates as he watched her walk over to a fat sailor telling some sort of story to a group of children. She sat down, listening to the man's tale. Erik had to admit it; the fat sailor was a fine storyteller. And he also apparently held favor with the girl for she smiled at him in a more than friendly manor. Oh to hold favor with such a lass! While he preferred a woman with a more ample bosom, more curves to her, this lass would definitely bring pleasure.

"Tell us about the Phantom of the Caribbean."

That caught Erik's attention and brought his mind out of his fantasies. Odd, it was the girl that suggested the story. He listened as the old sailor told his tale. It was amusing really. He his version of the story was the closest to the truth he had ever heard. He was amused by the children's awed faces, mouths hanging, and eyes wide. Even the young woman appeared fascinated, but Erik suspected she had heard the story before.

What was most interesting was learning that the girl had seen the Pearl. Erik's ears were keenly listening now. Maybe he could learn something important from her.

But alas, his hopes were in vain. The girl had merely caught a glimpse of the Pearl, if that was what she had truly seen.

Soon, the children left and the girl, Christine the old sailor had called her, was alone with the man. Apparently they weren't intimately connected, a fact that filled Erik with a happiness he couldn't explain. Although learning of a titled boy she had chasing after her filled him with a seething anger. This lass was a free spirit, not some rich boy's plaything.

Bloody hell! He hadn't even met the bloody girl and she had already charmed him with her inner fire and wild beauty. _Brilliant Erik! You learned you lesson from Luciana about such beauty! You're a fool!_ That annoying voice in his head was gnawing at him. It was annoying because it spoke the truth. But he ignored it. He had to speak with this girl, especially after hearing her confessions to the sailor, her longing for adventure. Her longing for the sea. There were few birds like her, and like when hearing of a diamond, one took advantage.

He trailed his beautiful pirate lass (which is how he thought of her) to wherever her destination was, a plan already formulating in his mind.


	4. Chapter 3

**well, to all those that reviewed last chapter, here's an erik clone for y'all!**

**omg, another chapter! sorry for the lengthy wait time. junior year of high school is rough. but i'll try to have the next chapter up this weekend. there's a half day tomorrow so i'll devot my time to getting you another chapter, but i think you'll like this one**

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**Chapter Three**

The sea winds whipped the small island of Port Royal, as if threatening it to dare and stand so proud against the vast, engulfing sea and the mighty winds. But it was the wind that held pride, for it couldn't stand to see the puny rock immune its devastating power that it reaped upon sailing ships.

Walking the streets of Port Royal, Christine welcomed the wind blowing on her face. Well, usually. Today, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. It had been with her since she left the docks. On her way out, she had seen a wild haired man, dressed in worn clothes and a tri-corner hat. But in the shadows, she hadn't been able to make out his face.

Glancing behind herself for what seemed like the hundredth time, she surveyed the busy street. Nothing. But sometimes, she caught a glimpse of a dark shadow with wild hair dodging out of sight.

Christine sped up as she reached her street, home in sight. It was a plain, white stucco house with brown beams, small, but big enough that four people could live comfortably inside. The window shutters were thrown wide open and smoke was steadily rising in a thin, grey curl. It was heaven.

On the back of the house however, was the smith, which was on a completely different street. And quite different from the cozy house. Rough, and made from brown wooden boards, the smith was a workplace and nothing else. Uncle James and Will knew that. While they spent most of the day there, they always came home for dinner, then later for supper and stayed the rest of the night.

They would be in the kitchen now, waiting her arrival. She would be safe from whoever the wildhaired man was, just in the presence of her uncle and cousin.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Christine thought she saw the shadow again. Running now, Christine reached home in a matter of seconds, tearing the door open and rushing into the kitchen. Aunt Margaret was in the kitchen, and gave a huge jump as Christine clambered in.

"Now, what's gotten in to you?" she reproved, taking in Christine's wild hair, heavy breathing, and panicked eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" Suddenly, her eyes widened and Aunt Margaret let out a huge gasp. "Have you been attacked? Has some man hurt you?"

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when Aunt Margaret's meaty arms engulfed, cutting off her air. She felt strong, yet gentle hands stroke her hair, their owner making quiet shushing noises. "There, there, my love. Its alright."

Smiling slightly, Christine pulled out of Aunt Margaret's steal embrace, only because she had built some muscle (albeit invisible muscle) while working with Piangi. Looking her aunt directly in the eye, she said in a soothing voice, "Nothing has happened to me. I was merely a bit spooked after one of Piangi's stories. And I most certainly did not want to keep you waiting for your fish." Christine grinned at her aunt in full humor, hoping that the deep worry lines would recede from her beloved aunt's face.

But Margaret would not be fooled so easily.

"Do not even try to fool me with false tales of sea lore's and fish. You are not one so easily frightened by tales." She was hysterical now, pacing the kitchen and wringing her hands. "You are not telling me the truth, please what happened?"

The pleading in the older woman's eyes completely undid her. Christine firmly grasped her aunt's hands and looked her straight in the eyes, youthful brown meeting wise grey. "I think I was shadowed by a man, a suspicious looking man. I saw him at the docks and I occasionally caught a glimpse of him as I came home. That's why I was so scared." Christine noticed her aunt's terrified expression, terror that went so much deeper than just of a man stalking a pretty girl. To appease the terror, she added, "It was probably a product of my overactive imagination."

"Yes, that must be it." Aunt Margaret didn't sound very convinced, in fact, she was acting rather scatterbrained, as if in a false show of belief. To elevate this uncharacteristic display of nervousness, Christine said in her most cheerful voice, "So, where are Uncle James and Will?"

"Oh, they are at the fort doing repairs. They won't be back until supper."

Christine froze in the process of fixing herself a light sandwich. Uncle and Will, not at home? The thought filled her with a sort of vulnerability that consumed her. Oh, Christine knew how to take care of herself, as she had learned swordplay and marksmanship alongside Will, but the presence of the two men always filled her with a calm sense of protection. It was rather unnerving not to have them around.

Aunt Margaret didn't seem to notice Christine's woes and before either could open their mouths, there was a knock at the door.

Surprised, both women raised their heads and went to the front door. Aunt Margaret got there first, so Christine was forced to stay behind her as the caller was revealed.

She opened the door, and there stood a man.

A man in dark, worn clothes.

A man with long, wild hair.

_The man from the port!_

He was tall, well over six feet. He was broad shouldered and Christine could tell that strong, rippling muscles hid beneath his jacket. He wore a leather mask covering the right side of his face, which intrigued Christine. _Perhaps he's the Sea Ghost!_ Christine thought with a silent giggle. But it wasn't the mask that intrigued Christine the most, it was his eyes. Beautiful, sea green eyes that bore such wildness and intensity that Christine felt a sudden nakedness, as if her soul was bared for all the world to see.

Of course, that could just be because he was looking directly at her.

Aunt Margaret noticed the stranger's gaze and coughed rather loudly saying, "Sir, may I help you?"

"No madam, you cannot. But I believe that this young lady can." Oh God, his voice! Christine had never heard such velvety richness in all her life. His voice reeked of power and was absolutely bursting with seduction. So sensual was his voice that Christine gasped ever so slightly. Aunt Margaret didn't notice, but the man did.

And his eyes were still locked with hers.

Annoyed, portly woman irritably replied, "Sir, I do not like this tone of yours and I would be grateful if you would leave my niece alone." Erik finally tore his gaze from the lovely girl and glanced at the short woman before him. _Niece? Well, this makes things interesting._ He raised his visible eyebrow and made his intentions known. Well, not all of them. "Madam, I do not intend what you assume I do. I merely would like to be directed to a tavern where I can stay the night and I believe your niece could help me with that." Erik drew his gaze back to the girl, pleased to see the look of wonder on her face.

"You're that man that was stalking her! I swear I will bring every soldier in town upon you and have them hang you from the nearest tree!"

Aunt Margaret's yelling brought Christine out of her trance like state. She couldn't let her do this! Christine had to know who this man was, even if it meant lying to her aunt and complying with his request. Her curiosity had been aroused, and not even the danger of going to a tavern with a strange man could control it.

"Aunt Margaret, stop this! This is not the man I told you about." Christine turned from her aunt before her shocked and hurt face would weaken her resolve. Turning to the man, she drew up to her full height, which was very diminutive compared to him, and said, "I will help you find your tavern sir."

Leaving her shell-shocked aunt behind, Christine walked out the door and left headed out with the man. As he looped his arm into hers, Christine noticed he wore and smug and triumphant grin.

_What have I gotten myself into?

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_

**what a cliffie! laughs evilly you better review if you want that next chapter! you see, i found that bribing works! go enjoy those erik clones!**


	5. Chapter 4

**so sorry for not updating when i said i would. i had this all saven on a floppy disk which deciced to be stubborn and not let me open this file. i just got it to work and am not going to be using floppy.**

**to make up for that, here's some good ol' e/c interaction. hope ya like!

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Chapter Four**

The streets of Port Royal were not exactly the most private place to be. There were eyes everywhere, watching one another. In an area so dense with pirates, the people of the island were always on the lookout for suspicious persons and activities. Occasionally, a pirate was caught, paraded around the streets in disgrace, imprisoned and then hung the next morning. But that didn't happen all that often. Most of the prisoners in the jail were those caught at sea. No one paraded them.

So the people of Port Royal were unaccustomed to much change and excitement. The most interesting thing that had happened in the last few months was Captain Raoul de Changy's upcoming promotion. And his infatuation with a common blacksmith's niece.

So it was a rather large shock to see Christine Daae, a good girl even though she was somewhat free-spirited and adventurous, walking arm in arm with the most suspicious man the people had ever laid eyes on.

Erik was painfully aware of the gazes he was drawing. He was also aware of nervousness of the girl on his arm. _Damn, she's amusing!_ The girl, for all her boyish ways and adventurous restlessness, she was still a girl susceptible to the charms of an older, mysterious man.

A man such as himself.

Christine heard the man chuckle quietly and was slightly unnerved by it. But she didn't dare say anything for the people on the streets would hear.

As they rounded a corner they were temporality out of sight. Erik used that spilt second of privacy to pull the girl into an abandoned alley.

Christine gasped as the man roughly pulled her away from the eyes of Port Royal. What did he think he was doing? She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a hand at her mouth.

"Hush love, we'll not be speaking here."

Erik knew his voice would melt the girl's defenses allowing him to pull her into a more secluded part of the alley. Erik could plainly see the girl awaken from her trance and realize where she was. Judging by her face, she obviously was remembering many stories her meddling aunt had told her about woman being raped in alleyways. He expected her fear.

What he didn't expect was her anger.

"Would you mind explaining yourself to me, sir?" she hissed in a low voice, yanking her arms free. "I was under the impression that you were looking for a tavern. I'm warning you, explain yourself at once or-"

"Or what? Your uncle will come upon me? Or that boy of yours, Captain what's his name.

"You listened in on me?" Now Christine was furious. So furious that the man's voice didn't have an affect on her; and she was expecting his reply. "And it would be me you would have to answer to!"

Erik chuckled at the sight before him. Christine was literally shaking with rage, angry red dots coloring her cheeks. "You, missy? I find it hard to believe that a frail thing like you could even last a minute against me!"

And once again, she surprised him.

Christine flew at Erik, hitting him hard on the nose and again in the gut, which happened to be rock solid. Erik was dazed for a second as his shock over her attack consumed him, but only for a second. As her fist fell to deal him another blow to the nose, he grasped her fist tightly in one hand and her upper arm with the other. She struggled like a hellcat and it was only Erik's larger size and weight that allowed him to pin her against the dirty alley wall.

Christine felt her back come in hard contact with the wall behind her. Before she could even begin to break free of the man's grip, he took bother her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. But what irked her most was when the man pressed himself flush against her body. Christine could feel every muscle in his chest, every knickknack in his pockets, his firm thigh wedged between her legs, his free hand upon her waist. Christine cursed herself for finding him attractive in that moment. One look at his face, or what she could see of it, helped her shake off the odd feeling in her gut. While his uncovered face was handsome, it was filled with the sickest pleasure she had ever seen. He obviously enjoyed seeing her like this.

Christine was a sight to behold, breathing heavily squirming against him, trying to break free. Her hair had grown wild, loose curls spilling over her shoulders. And her eyes, how lovely! Those chocolate depths sparkled with anger and frustrations, making her seem like a wild maenad. Erik felt himself hardening, proof of how arousing the young girl before him was.

"Now, when you have calmed down, we will have the little chat you want, missy." He kept his tone low and soothing, wishing to calm the girl enough so she would speak to him. Because for all his earlier arrogance and swagger, he longed to know who she was just as much as she obviously wanted to know who he was.

But they would just have their conversation in this position.

"I am calm," Christine replied through gritted teeth. She was still trying to break free, but he just wouldn't budge. "Please, let go."

Erik raised a brow. It was so wonderful to see his maenad beg! "No, lass. We're staying right here whilst you ask your questions, nowhere else. Savvy?"

Christine sighed, "Fine, just as long as you let me go after this."

"Of course, love. I still need to find a tavern."

Christine couldn't help but giggle slightly at that remark. But she quickly caught herself and rearranged her countenance into its former anger.

"Well, first of all, I would like to know why you were following me and when you started following."

_Thought she'd ask that_. "Well love, I saw you first on the dock markets. I'm the kind of man you can pick out a rare beauty from a crowd of dull, blank townsfolk." He loved the blush that came upon her face. It made her look all the more beautiful.

"It was a good thing is wasn't the governor's daughter you saw first. You'd be shot on the spot if you ever tried to follow her and ask her to escort you to a tavern."

Erik could trace a bit of scorn and contempt in her voice as she spoke of this girl, and he had a feeling it wasn't jealousy over looks. The noblewoman must have done something awful to her. Erik made a mental note to look into the governor's daughter and give her a nice scare.

"I don't believe I would have followed her. I did say that it was beauty that first caught my eye." Christine blushed even more. Erik removed his hand from her waist and stroked her lovely cheek. "An incomparable beauty."

_Does he really think I'm beautiful?_ This could not be happening. It was like her deepest, darkest fantasies had come to life. Often Christine had dreamed of a handsome rouge coming to her and sweeping her off her feet. Now here she was in the arms, more or less, of a man that fit that description and thought her beautiful.

Erik let is hand drift down to her neck where he caressed the soft flesh there. He could feel her quickening heart beat which aroused him further. Leaning his head down a little further, he continued. "It wasn't only your beauty that struck me, that makes you stand out."

Christine was drowning in the slow, honey sludge his voice and caresses were creating. His whispering lips almost brushed Christine's ear. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to give in to her dark fantasies and sudden desires. _This is too much._

"Have you ever heard of the maenads?"

His question pulled Christine out of her third trance as she gave him a bewildered look. _What sort of question is that to ask?_ "Yes, Piangi told me about them."

"Did you know that you are one?"

Now Christine was really confused. And insulted.

"I most certainly am not a maenad! I never behave in such a manner! How dare you!"

Erik listened to Christine's sputtered indignities for a second, amused. But her voice was rising and Erik was sure that someone would hear. Erik drew his hand from her neck and covered her mouth.

"Damnit woman, hush!" he whispered harshly, his grip on her wrists tightening. Christine swallowed her whimper of pain, not wanting to give this man the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting her.

The girl's eyes glared at Erik with such intensity that Erik pitied any lesser man who had the unfortunate luck of invoking her wrath. "Now, if you're done with your self righteous anger and indignity, pay attention." Erik used his most commanding tone with her, letting her know he was not one to be trifled with. "You are a maenad, not a proper British lady." Her glare deepened. "Proper British ladies don't listen to stories told by old sea biscuits and yearn to venture out into the world. They don't dream of adventure and deny spoiled rich boys. And the most certainly don't lie to their aunt and accompany a strange man to a tavern."

He slipped his hand from her mouth, placing it back on her waist. Christine could feel the heat of his hand burn straight through her clothing. "But maenads do," he whispered. There was a silence between them, both gazing into each other's eyes. She understood. Christine had always known she was different. As a little girl, she was never interested in dolls and tea parties and as a young woman she never joined in on gossip circles and flirting with handsome young men.

"Oh," was all Christine could say.

"What else would you like to know?"

"A name, sir."

Erik had been lightly rubbing his thumb in circles on her flat stomach when she asked her question. _Damn, what was that name I came up with? Smith something._

"Smith, missy. Angel Smith."

_His name is Angel? Well, he looks like one_. Why did she just think that?

"I just gave you my name and I'd like yours in return.

"Christine."

_I knew that._ "What about your last name?"

Erik saw her smile in a rather coy, mischievous way. "That is none of your concern, Mr. Smith."

Angel looked visibly put off. Well, he can't have everything he wants and Christine was just going to have to prove that to him. Besides, Christine never gave her surname to strangers.

Erik decided not to press the matter. Christine had already proven she was stubborn and he wasn't about to fight a losing battle. Well, one that he couldn't win right now. Soon though, he would know Christine in every way possible. She was one catch Erik wasn't about to pass up.

Christine feltAngel release her wrists. A surge of blood entered her numb arms as she lowered them, evoking a pins and needles sensation. Christine absentmindedly rubbed her sore wrists, wondering what Angel was thinking.

Erik saw the red rings around Christine's wrists that were gradually turning to bruises. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed him as he saw her rubbing them. But he couldn't think about that now. The first phase of his seduction had begun and he had to find a tavern and plan the rest. Whatever it would be.

Taking Christine's arm, he steered her out of the alleyway and back on the streets.

"Now let's find that tavern."

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**now wasn't that nice! go review now and erik will apear in your dreams and do what ever you want him to do! and i do mean everything!**


	6. Chapter 5

well, an update! y'all happy? well, let me know and review! oh, and when you do, tell me what you think of the song. its a poem i wrote. i use alot of my poems in my poto phanphics and would like to know if you guys like them. kay?

disclaimer: you know the drill, i own nada, except my awsome picture of erik that is soooo precious to me!

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Chapter Five

Christine laid on her small bed, gazing out her window. The moon was shining brightly tonight, casting silvery shadows across her room. When they were little, Christine and Will tried to catch the moonlight, to see what it would feel like. But that was long ago, when they still slept in the same room. When Christine's first monthly course came, Will was moved to a separate room the next day and the two no longer had any nighttime adventures.

Christine still believed her Aunt and Uncle use her courses as a way for them to actually sleep at night. Which wasn't happening tonight.

Try as she might, she couldn't get Angel out of her head. The things she was feeling right now should have been disgust and repulsion at the rude and discourteous way he treated her. He had pinned her on an alley wall for God's sake!

But her treacherous heart and mind thought otherwise. In her heart, she felt feelings she could only owe up to her ridiculous romantic daydreams and a feeling that could only allot to lust. Her mind was fascinated and intrigued with this dark, suave Angel.

_I wonder if he is a fallen angel!_ Christine giggled at that thought and felt a blush spread across her cheeks. Or had it been there the whole time? It seemed she blushed every time she thought about Angel, which was constantly. Well, at least as constantly as the rest of the day could be.

When she had arrived home after showing Angel the tavern, she found Aunt Margaret distraught with worry, along with Uncle James and Will. Apparently she had dragged the tow of them out of their work to inform them about Angel, or the scallywag in a mask as Aunt Margaret had called him. Oh there had been lectures on the dangers of strange masked men and reprimands for not minding her aunt. Christine had only half listened, her mind wandering off to think of Angel, his perfect mouth and body, the way his hands felt on her…

_Plink!_

_What on earth?_ Christine was stirred from her thoughts by a sharp tap on her window. A few seconds later, another tap, and Christine saw that its source was a rock flung at her window. She quickly climbed out of bed to inspect, and found Angel standing on the ground beneath her window.

She opened it just as Angel launched another stone, sailing right past her shoulder and landing with a hard thud against her bedroom wall.

"I'm bloody well up now so you can stop that," she said harsh whisper audible enough for him to here her and soft enough so that her family wouldn't. Hopefully.

He tutted her sardonically and answered in a normal pitched voice, "Such language from a young lady! Not very nice on your part love."

"Maenad, remember? And keep your bloody voice down!"

"Why," he countered, loving every moment of this. He had thought about nothing except her and just how wonderful it was to infuriate her.

"You'll wake the whole house up, that why!" Angel was starting to irk her now. How could she have ever fancied him, boorish ape that he was!

"So, let them hear." Erik knew he was risking his neck accosting her like this, but he was too interested to see how this would end.

"You absolute boor! Get out of here!"

"No, I must speak with you" he said slightly louder this time.

"Please, leave."

"No. I'm going nowhere until you come down here."

Christine's eyes widened. "You must be jesting. Do you really think I'm going to come down to you at this hour?"

"Fine, then I'll come to you." He began to climb the ivy that crawled up the side of the house to her second story bedroom window.

"No, you get back down! If they find you here--" Christine trailed off, allowing Angel to fill in the rest in his mind. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to work as he merely paused in his ascension to smile wickedly at her. Christine sighed and resigned herself to her fate. "Fine, I'm coming down."

Erik smiled in triumph and jumped back to the ground. He saw Christine disappear from the window and was about ready to climb back up and drag her out when she reappeared with a shawl tightly wrapped around her.

Christine gingerly climbed out of the window, balancing precariously on the sill. She carefully made her way over to the ivy, but her hand missed. Vertigo swept over Christine, causing her to lose her balance and send her tumbling down.

Erik saw her slip easily caught her in his arms. Although Erik could tell she was frightened, she didn't scream. Odd, but he was rather proud of her for that. Her breathing was heavy and she clung to his shoulders, burying her head against his chest. Erik reveled in the feel of Christine in his arms. He wondered what it would feel like to hold her in a bed, no clothes between them…

Christine was just getting comfortable in Angel's arms when he unceremoniously dropped her to the ground. It was only due to her excellent balance and agility she gained from dancing that she did not fall flat on her behind. Rather, she swayed a moment before regaining her balance. She felt Angel's eyes on her, glowing amber in the night. Odd, his eyes had been green during the day. Suddenly aware of how thin her nightgown was, she rewrapped her thick shawl around her upper body, shielding herself from his gaze.

Erik coughed and said in a tighter voice than he would have liked, "Well, can't stand here all night, come my lovely maenad." He took her hand and led her through the abandoned streets of Port Royal.

The walked in silence, both simply taking joy in the warm sea breeze and lovely night. Christine felt she could pretend that she was walking with her lover, off to a secluded cove to whispers sweet nothings and exchange sweet kisses. Of course, that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

They came to an unpatrolled dock, looking out on the calm, crystalline sea, they sat on the edge, legs dangling over the edge. Erik turned to Christine but at the sight of her beauty, heightened by the moonlight, all words he had were caught in his throat. Luckily for him, Christine spoke first.

"Angel, why have you brought me here?"

Erik stared back at her, thrown off by her question. All day long he had been thinking of only her, her beauty, fierceness, and wildness that drove him crazy with desire, curiosity and the stirrings of something his pride would allow him to allot to lust.

His heart faintly protested.

But how could he tell her this? That the Phantom of the Caribbean was made completely undone by a mere girl not even fully developed yet. That he needed her, with him, to be his. He desperately and blindingly needed her to be his. She was too rare a jewel to pass up.

But Erik knew for all her wildness, Christine was still a rather proper British girl, modest and virginal. Odds on she would never accept a man's embrace until her wedding night. The only way a man would taste her before hand would be rape, something Erik _never_ did or would do. Murderer, pirate and complete scallywag that he was, Erik would never violate a woman in such a manner.

"Angel?"

Christine's sweet voice floated back to his ears, so lovely, so musical.

Musical?

Christine watched Angel's masked face that had been deep in thought crack into a devilish grin. Christine felt a flutter in her stomach that she had always felt when in the presence of a dashing and handsome man. it was nothing new to her. What was new was the heat coming from someplace lower, the sheer ache and slight twitch that was completely foreign to her. She had no idea what it was, but it seemed it was Angel who elicited it.

"I want you to sing," he finally said, voice cocky and demanding.

"What?"

He smiled that irritating smile again. "I don't believe there is anything wrong with you hearing. Now sing or I don't believe you'll be going home before sunrise."

Christine mulled over his words for a moment. She didn't want to give into Angel more than she had already, but she also didn't want to be discovered missing and found with a strange man.

After all, a stained reputation was worse than bruised pride.

Christine searched her mind for a song to sing, and when she found one, straightened up and softly sang.

_Blow soft moonlight,  
__Shine darling wind.  
__Sing me a song of home.  
__So lonesome here,  
__In the rolling sea  
__Blow soft moonlight  
__Sing darling wind._

_Oh Dolphin too,  
__Dance for me  
__Too many things left unsaid.  
__So long the nights  
__Too many memories  
__Blow soft moonlight  
__Shine darling wind_

_When time came to part  
__Many tears she did shed.  
__But all the same  
__We parted that morn  
__And far off is the day  
__We are as one again.  
_

_Blow soft moonlight,  
__Shine darling wind.  
__Sing me a song of home._

"That's all there is to it," Christine said to break the silence that had settled as she sang. "Piangi taught it to me. It's a sailor's song he wrote when he was on his first voyage as a sailor. It's a lovely song don't you think?" She was rambling, as she often did when she was nervous.

After another moment of silence, Angel simply said, "What was lovely was your voice."

Christine blushed and widened her eyes, becoming acutely self-conscious. He had meant it, that she knew. For all his swagger and air of danger, Christine knew he wouldn't hurt her. She didn't know how she knew, just that she did and that was enough.

Erik noticed the faint pink fingers of Dawn inching over the horizon. Regretfully, he knew he must take Christine back home, though he would much prefer to keep her with him. Standing, he took the lovely girl's lily white hand to help her up. Odd, but yet while her hands were soft, there were slight calluses where one might grip a sword. Judging by the feel of them, they were anything but new.

Looking questioningly at her, she smiled and answered, "My uncle is a blacksmith who specializes in swords. My cousin and I learned swordplay with the swords he makes."

Smiling, Christine rose to her feet, shirking his hand. Erik walked behind her all the way back to her home, chewing over this new piece of information, and how it made all the harder a fish to reel in.


	7. Chapter 6

**a/n: hey, i updated really fast! so y'all better review. okay, i am sorry that this chapter really has no impacted on the plot and not much happens, but it gives you a glimpse of Christine's homelife, and some of erik's plans. **

**for will turner fans: he is finally in this chapter, but rember, his name is william brown, not turner. i personally dislike both orlando bloom and will, but i tried to be unbiased and make y'all happy! so review!**

**disclaimer: i own nothing, and some of the lyrics in the song in this chappie i credit to charles hart.

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**

Chapter Six

Christine hadn't seen one glimpse of Angel in two weeks, since the night she sang for him. Occasionally, she had felt two eyes burning her with their gaze, but when she had turned they were gone. She knew it was him, but why hadn't he shown himself to her? As much as she hated to admit it, she was becoming more and more infatuated with Angel the more he was away from her.

Sitting by her window, watching the sun go down, Christine wondered where Angel was. Had he left Port Royal, or was he still at the tavern? Christine didn't think she could bear it if he had left without saying goodbye to her.

Christine sighed and pushed Angel quite forcibly from her thoughts. She had other, more important things to think about. Like how she was to turn down Raoul's impending proposal.

Tomorrow was his promotion to the position of Commodore and he had invited her quite graciously to be his guest of honor. Tomorrow, Christine knew he would propose. He had been hinting at it ever since he invited her to the ceremony, saying that her dreams would come true that day.

Christine had bit back the scathing remark she wished to throw at him.

At least Will would be with her tomorrow, as her escort. After all, he had made the sword that Raoul would receive. It was only fair he should she the honor it was being put to.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. _That's it!_ Christine was desperate to escape thoughts of Angel and Raoul that she had resorted to her least favorite pastime, sewing. What she needed right now was a good, long swordfight with her cousin.

Throwing down her dress she was mending, Christine changed into her boys clothes, hand downs of Will's that consisted of black mid-calf breeches, a grey button down shirt and black leather belt. Underneath the shirt, she put on a beige bodice embroidered in and verdant ivy design. Strapping her sword to her waist, Christine went to the smithy to seek her duel.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Concealed in a shadowy ally, Erik watched his maenad as she sat at her window. She looked troubled, something he noted with glee and concern.

She missed him, he could tell. It was the next phase of his seduction, leave her alone, let her grow antsy and wish to see him. If he left her alone long enough, whatever feeling she had for him would grow. Hopefully, grow enough for him to convince her to leave with him when he "commandeered" a ship and sailed for Tortuga. If that plan backfired, he could always kidnap her. If left alone with him on a ship with no means of escape, she would learn to accept him and her fate, her fate to be his.

Erik growled softly as the prospect of his soon to be victory. And what a victory it would be, taming a lion like her into submission to him. Smiling wickedly, he took on last glance at Christine.

_Soon love, soon you'll get the adventure you've been longing for. Just don't complain when its not what you've expected!_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Christine found Will polishing Raoul's soon to be sword in the smithy. He heard her coming, despite her bare feet. He smiled as he took in her manner of dress, knowing what she wanted.

She returned the smile, happy he would shirk his duties for the moment to humor her. She loved that about him. He knew what she needed, when she needed to blow of steam held under her kettle. It was why he taught her swordplay in the first place, to give her a way to release. The ability to defend herself was an added bonus.

"So, what's got you wound up this time?" he inquired as he got his sword ready.

"The ceremony."

"Ah," he said, though by the look on his face, Christine knew he had already guessed that from the moment she entered the room.

She watched him as he readied himself, admiring his handsome form and face. Though he was her cousin and best friend, Christine was not blind to how perfectly formed Will was. His dark, wild hair fell both elegantly and dashingly around his angled face. And his eyes, two warm, dark orbs that would make any girl melt, except herself. He truly was dashing, and polite too. It was a shame that he worked so much and never paid much attention to the ladies. He would truly have no trouble finding a woman.

Of course, Christine would insist on approving her first, just as Will would insist on doing for her.

"Ready?" he asked when he was finished, grinning devilishly, yet playfully. This was going to be good.

Christine and Will took their stances in the smithy, swords held and eyes sharply hard, Simultaneously, The pair sprang towards each other, swords coming together with an icy clash. Again and again, they repeated, thrust, parry, block. A simple warm up routine, tame and mild. Of course, that wasn't about to last for very long.

Their mock fight became rough and quite violent. They were all over the place, jumping over tables, spinning, swords clashing like lighting. It was all so fast that any bystander would have only seen two blurs and faint sparks emitting from the blades. In the end, Christine managed to disarm Will and sent him crashing to the ground. She held her sword tip to his neck, a triumphant grin on her face.

With a raise of her brow, she asked the question.

And Will nodded his surrender.

"Will! Christine! Come and wash for supper!" Aunt Margaret called from the kitchen.

They both set their swords down, pell-mell on a workbench and proceeded to leave the smithy.

"Clean the mess you made before though," came Uncle James gruff voice.

Christine and Will turned, and surveyed the knocked over boxes of supplies and over turned furniture. Glancing at each other, they quickly set to work cleaning the smithy.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

An hour later, the family, bellies full of Margaret's delicious cooking, sat in front of the living room parlor, a fire blazing in the hearth. Aunt Margaret sat in her favorite rocking chair, mending a pair of Will's breeches. Uncle James, his scruffiness making him out of place in the spotless parlor, was reading the paper.

Seating before the fire, Christine was doing her nightly reading that Aunt Margaret made her do for she would have no "dumb children" in her household. Tonight, Christine was reading Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_, with help from Will. The two of them were acting out the balcony scene together, desperately trying not to burst out laughing at the silliness of the title lovers.

"Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" Christine cried with breathy histrionics. Out of the corner of her eye, Christine saw her Uncle shaking with silent laughter. Will was clutching at his stomach and his face was beet red as he tried to stop laughing long enough to deliver his line.

"Alright, that's enough you two!" Margaret said, though she too was amused. "It's nearly ten and I think it's high time you get up to bed Christine."

She tried to protest, but Aunt Margaret would have none of it. After all, Aunt Margaret wanted her to be well rested for tomorrow.

Christine was tempted to say that she would rather be sewing that with Raoul at his promotion. She still didn't know how she was going to turn him down.

Contemplating this as she marched up to bed, Christine bid everyone good night. Upon reaching her room, she changed into her nightgown and climbed into her warm bed, first opening the window above her bed to let in the warm sea air.

Two knocks on the door signaled that Uncle James had come to wish her goodnight. She smiled. Christine loved this routine of theirs and would never grow tired of it.

He entered the room and sat by her bed, pulling her covers up to her chin. And then he would sing, so beautifully.

_Little Lottie,  
__Go to sleep and dream,  
__Sweet child._

_Fear not the dark  
__For are not alone.  
__When I'm not here,  
__The Angel of Music,  
__Will watch your slumber._

_Angel of Music,  
__Guide and Guardian  
__Grant to my child,  
__Your Glory.  
__Angel of Music  
__Hide no longer,  
__Come Strange Angel._

_Little Lottie,  
__Go to sleep and dream,  
__Sweet Child._

Christine's eyelids drooped as Uncle James finished his song, his low bass fading away with her fading conciousness. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, bidding her goodnight. "Sweet dreams, Little Lottie."

He left the room, careful not to make any noise. In his wake, Christine fell into a deep slumber, dreaming of the Angel of Music.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Christine wasn't sure if it were the bright sunlight that woke her or Aunt Margaret's voice yelling for her to rise and get ready for school.

Groaning, Christine rolled out of her warm, inviting bed and clambered about her room for her clothing. Aunt Margaret was yelling again so she put on the first thing she could find, a dull beige dress. she skipped putting on a corset this morning. Christine grabbed her books from her desk and, while pulling on her shoes and quite nearly breaking her neck, clopped down the stairs to the kitchen.

She met a very angry pudgy Aunt who merely thrusted a warm bread roll into her hand and pushed her out the door. She found Will waiting for her there.

The day after Angel came to their house demanding Christine escort him, her ever protective Aunt and Uncle had Will escort her everywhere she went, to school, the market, the docks and he was always waiting for her after school. Neither minded because, as they matured, their time together became limited due to the responsibilities that came with their maturity.

"A little late this morning, are we?" he asked, dark eyes teasing her.

Christine tried to shoot a response back at him, but it was lost in he bread filled mouth. Will burst out laughing, earning him a scathing glare from Christine which only caused him to laugh more.

After swallowing down her bread roll, Christine initiated a bickering banter that carried the pair all the way to the school.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Erik trailed the young couple as ambled down the streets of Port Royal, seething with rage. He thought that little minx hated the boy that pursued her so, yet here she was arm in arm with him, acting so intimately it made Erik want to spew. He hadn't been following her enough to know that she too was seduced by great beauty, which the boy had plenty of.

How dare she! Christine was his and his alone. As they reached the school, Christine watched them bid adieu to each other, not knowing it would be the last time they ever saw each other. Yes, he had found the ship he needed to leave this godforsaken island and today, he would sail away, his maenad with him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Christine watched Will retreat, as did several other girls in the school courtyard. Her best friend, Meg Giry, was among them. She smiled at Meg and the two girls entered the cozy, stone building that was the school.

"Your so lucky, Christine, to have such a handsome cousin," Meg said wistfully. Christine knew very well that her friend fancied Will. Christine only hoped that Will would someday see it too as Meg was the only person she deemed worthy of him. Visually, Meg was very appealing, having lovely, long golden hair that shined like an angel's in the sun. Her round face held an innocent beauty that, while would not be prized by the glamour obsessed people of England and its colonies, would charm any man into a sweet lovesickness. Her honey brown eyes only heightened this affect.

But that's not why Christine deemed Meg worthy of him. Meg had the most beautiful soul of anyone she knew. She had endured much, having to deal with taunts and prejudices for being a daughter of a woman who ran away with a stranger, giving birth to Meg illegitimately. Instead of wallowing in her misfortune, Meg was jovial and innocent, partially thanks to her grandfather, Piangi. Meg never lost her innocent manner, even after being exposed to Christine's sharp tongue and Piangi's sailor friends. Yes, only sweet, brave, darling little Meg was worthy of Will.

Now if she could just find a way to bring them together.

"Silence everyone and take your seats" said the overbearing schoolmarm, Miss Sorelli. All the pupils in the terminal year took their seats, knowing not to disobey her orders, else one would wind up with either sore hands or an inflamed bottom.

Miss Sorelli took role but paused as she got to the S's.

"Where is Miss Swann?"

Everyone looked around for the governor's daughter, but she simply wasn't there. All the girls, with the exception of Carlotta's friends, let out sighs of relief, grateful she wasn't there. The few boys who fancied her seemed disappointed.

Carlotta's absence struck a dull murmur of gossip to begin, only to be sharply halted by Miss Sorelli's ruler crashing on her desk.

The lesson proceeded without any other interruptions, on of those lessons without anything remarkable happening, a lesson where time seemed to crawl like a slug.

But not for Christine.

This had to be the fastest lesson she ever experienced, due to, she thought, the ceremony at four that afternoon. Before, it was a dark cloud, looming off in the distance, but now so close that she was about to be drenched in its rain. Before she knew it, it was three o'clock, end of the school day.

Miss Sorelli dismissed them and the class filed out, happy it was at last the weekend.

Christine reached the courtyard, looking for Will who was nowhere to be found. That was odd, he was always here before school let out. Christine felt her spirits deflate even more as she wanted to try to get Meg and Will together.

Meg looked just as disappointed. She turned to Christine and said, "I must be going, Grandfather is expecting me back soon."

Christine watched her friend walk away, her drooping shoulders exposing her misery.

Christine decided to head home without Will and was walking out of the court yard when an arm yanked her into an alley.

Before she had time to react, the cold alley wall was against her back, two strong hands pinning her to it. She looked up to see Angel, the unmasked portion of his face painted with fury.

"What the bloody hell do you think your doing?" Christine hissed at him.

Erik glared at her, furious that she dared to speak to him like this. She was already struggling, making it difficult for him to hold her down. Erik took one hand off her arm and raised it high, bringing it crashing down upon her cheek.

"Shut up, lassie!"

Christine stilled all struggle when she felt the fire in her cheek. He hit her! No one in her life had ever hit her before, not ever her hardly ever sober mother. Christine looked at Angel, horrified that he had done this to her.

Erik took in the horror on her face, feeling a little guilty that he struck her. He didn't like hurting women, but he was desperate to get her to the _Interceptor _before she was missed.

"Now you would so kind as to stay quiet and follow me, you won't be hurt anymore than necessary," growled, his face inches from hers.

Christine spat in his face, obviously disgusted with him. Before Erik could react, something hit his head with a rather painful force. He was knocked to the ground, his hold on Christine relinquished.

"Don't you ever dare touch her again!" the man who had been escorting Christine hissed at him with barely controlled rage. "If you harm my cousin again I will personally see to it that you are hanged from the nearest tree!"

_Cousin?_ Erik was left pondering this as Christine and the boy walked off, leaving him lying on the ground. Suddenly, an dozen anvils of guilt piled on to him. That boy wasn't her beau after all, but her cousin! He had harmed Christine and destroyed the relationship he was building with her all for nothing. She would never come with him now, at least not willingly.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Christine was in her room, getting ready for the ceremony, hot tears pouring down her cheeks. He had hit her! The emotional hurt it invoked was far more painful than the sting of the blow.

When they returned home, Will took Christine straight up to her room, avoiding Aunt Margaret. As he bathed her cheek, Christine confessed everything to him. The alley, their nighttime rendezvous, even the feeling she thought she had. Will held her as she cried, making comforting shushing sounds in her ear.

Aunt Margaret had demanded to know what had happened when she came to help Christine lace her corset, but she remained silent.

Now, she stood before her mirror, washing her tear swollen eyes until there was no evidence she had ever been crying. Makeup covered up the bruise that had begun to form on her cheek. Smoothing out her good dress, sky blue with a pink rose pattern, Christine headed downstairs, albeit slowly, as her corset made it rather difficult to breathe.

Will was waiting for her, wearing his best suit. He looked rather dashing and Christine wished Meg could see him right now. He held under his arm a think package, the sword he made for Raoul.

Linking arms, the two headed off for the Governor's mansion and from there, the ceremony.


	9. Chapter 8

**here's a nice loooooooooong chappie for you. i apologize in advance for the christine's lack of backbone in this chapter, but she is wearing the infamous corset! and if you hate raoul, read on!**

**oh, and everyone's favorite soldier duo is in this chappie so be happy and review!**

**disclaimer: i own nothing!

* * *

Chapter Eight**

The Governor's Mansion loomed over the small town of Port Royal like a tree in a desert. It was a beautiful building, grand in its opulence and quaint in its simplicity. But it was cold, made of grey stone. The orderliness of it made it seem vacant, like it wasn't home.

The iron gates clanged shut behind Christine and Will, sending a shudder down her spine. The sound made her feel like she had entered a prison.

They made their way up the drive, which was a considerable distance, to the dark mahogany wooden door. Christine loved this door. Its subtle beauty and delicate carvings emitted a feeling of warmth. She didn't dare touch it for it was too beautiful a door that Christine didn't want to take the chance of ruining it.

Will alerted the household of their presence by banging the brass doorknocker. A hawkfaced, overdressed butler opened the door to them. He looked down at them through his beak of a nose, the faint presence of a sneer on his lips. He took in Will first, sneering at the plainness of his suit and lack of wig. Next, he surveyed Christine, looking her up and down. His eyes seemed to linger upon her low neckline, her small breasts that her emphasized by her tight corset.

Will noticed his gaze and coughed loudly, wanting the man to take his eyes off his cousin before she attacked him. And because he had no right to stare at her that way.

"Sir, I am here to see the Governor," he said curtly.

The butler narrowed his eyes at Will and replied, "May I have a name?"

"Christine Daae and William Brown."

"Very well, wait here," the butler said, turning and heading up the long, curved stairway.

Christine stepped into the mansion, Will following her and closing the door. She had never been in it before. If she could actually breathe, she would have gone breathless at the sight of the simple grandeur. She could never imagine living here, but would enjoy exploring all the nooks and exotic objects in the mansion.

Will took in the look of wonder on Christine's face and emitted a faint sigh of relief. He was happy she was feeling better after what happened with Angel. She had been so sad, so broken after the monster hit her. He remembered the murderous anger that sprang in his chest as he had held Christine, her salty tears soaking his shirt.

Will found himself wishing that Christine wasn't so beautiful. While she was praised for it and could easily find a husband, it seemed to get her into trouble all the time. Due to her dark beauty, men like Angel harassed her and men like that insufferable butler leered at her obscenely. _She'd be much better off if she would run away and join a pirate ship._

"Ah, Mr. Brown, you're here," Governor Swann said, looking far too overdressed for a man. Christine bit on her tongue to keep from laughing. He sauntered down the stair with the air of a king. Oddly, he walk reminded her of Angel.

"And Miss Daae," he said grinning at her as reached them. He took her hand and kissed it. "You're looking lovely, as usual."

Christine couldn't help but giggle at his compliment. For all his pompous airs, the Governor was a kind gentleman that one could not help but adore. His dotty ways and sometimes flustered moments made him all the more endearing.

"Thank you, M'lord," Christine said with a smile.

Will presented the sword to the Governor, how was extremely satisfied with it. He mistaked it for being one of Uncle James's creations and Christine was about to contradict him when Will simply replied that "A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated."

At that moment, Carlotta decided to appear.

She dramatically stepped onto the landing, dressed in a fancy beige dress decorated with wine red roses and green ivy patterning. The skirts were rather full, making her hips look far too large for her body. Her vivid orange-red curls were piled atop her head, covered by a flat hat. She was beautiful, that Christine could not deny, but she hid her beauty behind ostentatious amounts of makeup and jewels. Her icy blue eyes met Christine's sienna one's for a moment before settling on Will.

"Oh Will," she simpered, gracefully prancing down the stairs. "It's so wonderful to see you. I had a dream about you last night!"

Christine rolled her eyes, Carlotta's overly sweet and eager voice grating on her ears. She glanced at Will who was struggling to conceal his annoyance in Carlotta's flirtations. Christine knew he could not stand the girl as he hated her for teasing Christine.

"About me, Miss Swann?"

"Yes, about the day we met." She was far too close to him, Christine noted with annoyance. _He hates you, you bloody harpy! Leave him be. Meg deserves him more than you!_

"How could I forget Miss Swann?" Will remembered all too perfectly the day he met Carlotta. He had been a lad of twelve and Christine had just come from England, a tiny, scared child. He and his mother met her there, along with the new Governor and his daughter, Carlotta. She had been a vicious brat back then, asking if Christine was their new servant and upon learning that she was not, demanded that she leave, that she did not want a bastard on the same island as her.

Carlotta earned the hate of many that day.

"Please call me Carlotta."

"Of course, Miss Swann."

_That got her goose,_ Christine thought happily.

The four of them, headed for the Governor's carriage which had been brought to the front. Carlotta tried to claim Will's arm, but Christine beat her to it.

They entered the carriage and headed to the fort.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

All in all, the ceremony was very boring. It was just a group of over dressed men and women wear far too much makeup. Christine hardly paid attention, as her breathing became more difficult under the sun. Will allowed her to cling to his arm for much needed support as the world around Christine seemed to spin. She fanned herself profusely, desperate to alleviate the inferno that was roaring in her head.

Screwing up her concentration, Christine saw Raoul take out the sword, lifting it high above his head. Admiral Philippe de Changy handed his brother a silver medallion; apparently it proclaimed him a Commodore.

And that was the end of the ceremony.

_And just why did we come to this?_ Christine wondered. Then she heard the strains of string music, boringly proper music that rich people like to have at parties. Apparently there was now to be a party. _Great._

"Will, can we go now?" she whispered to her cousin.

Will looked down on her with pity in his gaze. He knew she hated being here, that her corset was hurting her, that she desperately needed to lie down. He also knew that it would be very rude and possibly bad for the family if they left so abruptly.

Christine thrust out her lower lip in a pout to win him over. It always worked and this time was no exception. He nodded to her and took her hand, guiding her away from the party.

Unfortunately, they were met by the new Commodore, Carlotta on his arm.

"Miss Daae, might I have a moment?"

_Oh no, please Carlotta, make a scene, make him pay attention to you!_ Christine thought frantically. Her prayers were answered, sort of.

"Why Raoul, darling, why on earth would you want to see a common girl like this alone for," she simpered, ignoring Will's look of rage. "After all, we shall be married before too long. Seeing as we are the _only _two young people of noble birth, it is only natural we should be made one in a church of God."

Christine silently thanked God for Carlotta's overblown ego.

"I'm afraid Miss Swann that I shall make my own decisions for my own reasons," Raoul said sharply. "Now Miss Daae, if you would come along."

He took Christine's arm, attempting to lead her away. Christine was too dizzy to react, but Will thankfully came to her rescue.

"Actually, Commodore, my cousin isn't feeling too well. I think it is best I take her home."

Raoul turned an icy glare towards Will, saying angrily, "Mr. Brown, when I make a request, it is to be followed. Right now, I am requesting that Miss Daae come with me and she shall, regardless of her health." That being said, Raoul steered Christine away to the edge of the fort, overlooking the wide ocean.

Will watched them go regretfully. He knew that Raoul would have gotten a well aimed blow to his mouth if Christine hadn't been wearing a damn corset. The difficulty she had breathing was seriously eroding her consciousness, making her vulnerable to whatever that blasted Commodore had in mind.

Christine was vaguely aware of Raoul leading her to the edge of the fort. That view was very lovely. Raoul was saying something about his position and that he was lacking something. She couldn't exactly make out what specifically he was saying. She did catch one thing however, "You have become a fine woman, Miss Daae. I would be honored to have as my wife."

Christine couldn't stand it anymore. The ringing in her head became too much. "Can't breathe," she muttered.

Everything went black after that.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Erik made his way down to the docks, to survey his lovely new ship. _The Interceptor_ was a fine ship indeed, but it could never compete with the greatest love of Erik's life, _The Black Pearl_.

He had heard about the event at the fort and assumed that there would be no soldiers guarding the docks. He was very put out when he found two there.

They were casually sitting on barrels, only to spring up when they became aware of Erik's presence.

"This dock is off limits to civilians," the small one said.

"I'm terribly sorry. If I see one I shall let you know," Erik said, wishing he could just gut these two and be off. An idea sprang to mind. He got the two into banter, sparked by Erik's tale of his beloved ship. It was easy enough. The pair of soldiers soon became unaware of anything but each other, determined to prove the other wrong.

Erik grinned and boarded the ship. He sauntered up to the helm, revealing in the feel of it in his hands. This was power, this was freedom. Erik had missed this, the exhilaration of being in control of something so mighty that it defied the water. The only thing he needed to complete this was his maenad. He fell into a daydream, one where it was just he and Christine, alone on a ship at night. She wasn't wearing much, pale legs exposed and wrapped around his waist. Yes, she was a very enthusiastic maenad.

"Hey, you! Get away from there!"

Damn, the two soldiers were back. These two were really starting to annoy him, probably because they reminded Erik far too much of Andre and Firmin.

"Get away from there," the small one said.

"You don't have permission to be aboard there!" said the stout one.

Erik made the visible part of his face as sincere as he could manage and said, "I'm sorry but it's such a pretty boat." He noticed the soldier's scowls and quickly corrected himself, "ship."

"Who are you?" the stout one asked.

"Smith, or Smithy if you like." Erik had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"What's you're purpose in Port Royal, Mr. Smith?" the stout one said, saying his name that clearly told Erik the man didn't believe him. Well, perhaps these Redcoats really did have some brains after all.

"And no lies," said the small one.

Erik grinned. If they wanted no lies, no lies they would get. "I confess, it is my intention to commandeer this ship, kidnap a young girl, turn her pirate and make her submit to my will, pick up a crew in Tortuga , raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out!" Erik grinned smarmily, just for the effect.

The small one looked perplexed. "I said no lies!"

"I think he was telling the truth."

"If he was telling the truth, he wouldn't have told us."

Erik fought the urge to laugh as he said, "Unless he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told you!"

The Redcoats just stared at him.

"Why do you wear a mask?" the stout one asked.

Erik felt his jovial mood darken. Even Christine hadn't asked him that. In fact, the last person who had was so displeased with the answer that she fell to her death. Erik winced, he hated thinking of Luciana.

"What's your name, soldier?" Erik said, allowing the black menace that clouded his soul to creep into his voice.

"Mullroy. And this here is Murtogg," Mullroy said, gesturing to his smaller companion.

Erik walked up to the duo, both men drawing back slightly, and put his arm around Mullroy. "Mullroy, my boy, have you ever heard the tale of the pirate James Cooker?"

"Mullroy seemed very unnerved by his nearness for there was a definite tremor in his answer. "No, I don't recall that I have."

"Well, gentlemen, I'll just have to enlighten you."

Erik walked over to rail of the ship and sat down on it. "Might as well make yourselves comfortable, boys, for it's a hell of a tale."

Mullroy and Murtogg, sat across from him on crates, their eager faces making them look like little children at Christmas time. Just how these to got be part of the British army was beyond him.

"Well, James Cooker was a curious being ever since he was a wee lad. He just had to know everything. One day, when he was a man, he came across a chest, plain in appearance, but upon it was a carved message: "he who opens this chest will meet his doom". Well, old James curiosity was deeply aroused by that message. Ignoring the warnings, he opened the chest wishing to see what was so terrible. He regretted his actions a second later, and a second too late. For in that box was a swarm of African bees, deadly little buggers. The swarm fell upon James Cooker and that was the last of him."

Erik smirked at the men, hoping his message would sink in. Unfortunately, they just looked disappointed.

"That's it?" Murtogg said, incredulous. "That's your hell of a tale?"

"Aye," Erik said.

"You made that up!" Mullroy accused.

Erik smirked again and leaned forward, hands on his thighs. "Quite possibly, but I hope you got the moral of my story," he said darkly, a hint of a threat in his voice.

Unfortunately for Mullroy, a loud splash interrupted his before his could retort back.

Erik turned in time to see a flash of blue fall into the water. He heard a call for "Christine" from the fort above, issuing from a finely attired young man. He was gazing down at the spot where the woman fell.

"That's the Commodore de Changy," Mullroy said, pointing at the young man.

Erik felt his blood go cold. From what he had gathered, listening to the men in the tavern, this was the newly promoted, former Captain de Changy, the man who had been pursuing Christine.

It was Christine who fell into the water, and it didn't look like she was surfacing anytime soon. Panic gripped Erik at the thought of her dying. Furiously, he tore of his coat, hat, belt and bag, handing them to Murtogg with an order not to lose them. Without further ado, he dived into the warm sea water.

He swam harder than he ever had before, worry for Christine driving him on. Where was she? He circled the spot where he thought she had fallen, but didn't see her.

Suddenly, Erik felt a powerful tremor go through the water. _What the bleeding hell was that?_

There she is! Erik spied Christine, lying unconscious on the sea floor, her blue dress pooling around her. He quickly scooped her up, propelling them to the surface as fast as he could. When they broke surface however, he was pulled down again. Erik discovered it was the weight of her dress and ripped it from her without further thought.

The swim back was easier now that Christine was divested of her dress. Mullroy and Murtogg helped him get her onto the deck, but to their displeasure, she was still not breathing.

Erik saw that she was wearing a corset and, pushing the soldiers out of his way, cut it open with a knife and ripped it from her.

Christine came back to life, gasping for breath.

Erik let out a relieved sigh, and quickly tore his eyes from her. Her soaking under clothes left very little to the imagination.

"I never would have thought of that," Mullroy said with awe.

"Clearly you've never been to Singapore."

A faint cough brought his attention back to the petit girl lying between his legs. Christine was slowly regaining her awareness, of where she was and who with.

"Angel?" she said, voice soft and weak. Her lovely face was staring up at him with a mix of fear and confusion upon it. He saw, with a bit of guilt, a dark ugly bruise upon her cheek, remnants of makeup trailing from it. She must have covered it up before she went to meet that boy, that one he had thought she hated.

A flash of gold caught his attention and he tore his eyes away from Christine's face, to see what he never thought he'd see again.

Christine watched Angel warily, still feeling too weak to stand, protest his position on her or do anything. She watched his hand as it picked up her medallion, a look of fear and disbelief in his eyes.

"Where did you get this?" he said, voice shocked.

Before she could answer him, the sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears. She turned her head to see Raoul, Will and a small group of soldiers approach them.

Raoul took out his sword and aimed it at Angel's throat

"On you feet!" he said with an air of menace.

Erik stepped away from Christine, her cousin immediately coming to her aid, picking her up and wrapping her in his coat.

"Christine, are you alright?" he inquired.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said breathlessly, leaning into Will's embrace and keeping her eyes trained away from Angel. His wet, appealing form and tangled wet hair made her grow very hot in the cheeks, and elsewhere.

Will looked at the wet man and recognized him as Angel, the bastard who dared strike his cousin.

"Shoot him," he said to the Commodore.

Christine panicked when she heard Will's command. As much as a bastard Angel was, she would not have a man die because of her. The last time it happened it nearly destroyed her.

"Commodore," she cried, halting Raoul from carrying out Will's request. He looked at her funny, as she had emitted a foul curse word. "Do you really intend to kill my rescuer?" she inquired, raising her brow. She was quite aware of Angel's eyes on her, and inwardly cursed for using the word rescuer. Even Will couldn't believe she said it.

_What's that girl trying to do?_ Erik wondered. He glanced back to the Commodore, studying his face. Behind the anger, he was a handsome young fellow, possessing winter blue eyes and fine blond hair. A total fop, in Erik's opinion.

"I believe thanks are in order?" he said, reaching out to shake Erik's hand. Erik caustiouusly reached out to accept, but the Commodore turned the tables on him and grasped his wrist. The Commodore pulled up Erik's sleeve and exposed his pirate brand to the gaze of all onlookers, including Christine.

"Had a brush with the East India Trading company, did we, pirate?"

Erik winced, feeling Christine's incredulous stare and her cousin's hatful glare upon him. The Commodore pulled up the sleeve further, exposing his skull tattoo. "Well well, Erik Destler."

"Captain Erik Destler, if you please."

"Well, I don't see your ship…Captain," the Commodore said gloatingly. To his men, he yelled, "Gillette fetch some irons. Keep your guns on him men." Back to Erik, he said, "You, my friend, have a dawn appointment with the gallows."

Erik merely narrowed his eyes at the fop.

Christine stared at Angel, rather Erik. She couldn't believe it! He was a pirate, the bloodthirsty Erik Destler no less! Christine felt an emotion she could only assume was disillusionment. Erik was a pirate, he had lied to her, intended on kidnapping her most likely and, wait a minute! Her gaze found his tattoo and she recalled the story Piangi had told her. Erik was the Phantom of the Caribbean! The very man she had had fantasies about but never dreamed she would actually meet was standing right before her. It was too surreal for Christine to even begin to comprehend.

She saw a soldier hand Raoul Erik's "affects" and Erik himself being led to Gillette and his waiting irons. She could not let Erik die!

Removing herself from Will's arms, she followed Raoul and Erik, angrily saying, "Commodore, I really must protest." She stood between Raoul and Gillette who was shackling Erik. "Pirate or not this man saved my life."

Erik could hardly believe what he was hearing. The same girl he had given every reason to hate him was desperately trying to save his life!

"One good deed does not redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness," the fop said, standing much to close to Christine.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Erik put in.

"Indeed," the fop said, glaring.

The ponce who was shackling Erik finally moved away. Seeing his chance, Erik swiftly threw the chain of his irons around Christine's slender neck, pulling her against him. "Sorry love," he whispered in her ear, so faintly that only she could hear. He saw the band of soldiers aim their guns at him, only to be stop by Will's cry of "Don't shoot." Erik felt sorry for the boy. He was obviously outraged at being so helpless to defend his cousin. Bully for him.

"I knew you'd warm up to me," Erik said leering.

Christine was frightened. She still felt weak from her fall and near drowning, and now her very life was in the hands of a dangerous pirate she had once trusted. She cursed herself for being so helpless, wishing for some sort of weapon she could use against Erik. Christine gasped as she felt Erik pull harder on the chain, pulling her harder against him. She coughed from the cold metal biting into her throat.

"Now, Commodore, if you would be so kind and hand this young lady my effects. And my hat!"

Christine felt the chain slacken a bit, allowing her to step a bit forward to receive Erik's possessions. The instant they were in her hands, Erik pulled her back against him and spun her around to face him. Christine felt the cold metal of his gun, pressing firmly into her temple. Christine gasped in fear, for she hadn't even known he had taken the gun from her.

Erik mentally cursed himself for frightening her so. But there was another emotion clearly advertised on her face: disgust. Erik used that sentiment to harden himself against her.

"Now, love, if you'd be so kind." When she did not respond, Erik pressed his pistol harder into her head. She did not even wince. "Come, come, dear. We don't have all day."

Erik felt her little hands, placing his hat upon his head, strapping on his bag and redoing his belt. Erik took advantage of her closeness, drawing her nearer to him. The look of possessive anger on the fop of a Commodore face's was very amusing. Her hand accidentally brushed a bit roughly against his pelvic area as she did up his belt. He smirked at her saying, "Easy on the goods, love."

Christine looked at him with as much revulsion and disgust as she could. How dare this man amuse her trust and use her to his benefit. Meeting him straight in the eyes, she whispered harshly to him, "You're despicable, and I'm not your love!"

Odd to Erik, but Christine's words hurt him deeply. Despite his plans to take her under any circumstances, Erik longed for her acceptance. However, he didn't let his demeanor betray his hurt. Sneering at her, he got right into her face, hissing "Sticks and stones, love. I saved your life, you save mine, we're square."

Erik turned her around to face the men, keeping his gun train to her head. "Gentlemen, m'lady, (he whispered this right in her ear, most sensuously) you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Erik Destler!"

With that, he swiftly released the chain from Christine's neck and sent her crashing into the arms of her cousin and the fop. He spared her no final glance, making his escape summarily.

Christine felt Will's safe arms envelope her once more, bringing warmth back to her that had been stolen by Erik's callous actions. She heard Will demanding they shoot Erik and before she could protest, Raoul shouted "Open fire!" and all the soldiers followed through.

Christine watched up where their guns were firing and saw Erik swinging on a rope, spinning in circles.

Erik heard the gunfire and looked down, all the bloody Redcoats, aiming directly at him. He spied a long rope, hanging between two poles. Swinging the chain of his shackles about it, Erik slid down the rope, landing perfectly on the ground. He ran through the streets of Port Royal, pursued by the Redcoats.

Erik easily gave them the slip by hiding behind a statue of a blacksmith. They passed him without a second glance, giving Erik the opportunity to slip into the smithy.

It was plain and roughly hewn, straw littering the floor. Hammers and other tools were laid haphazardly on wooden tables. There was a warm fire glowing in the hearth.

A snicker met Erik's ears canny ears.

Erik nearly jumped around, only to be met by the doleful eyes of a donkey.

_Bloody thing!_ Erik turned his attention back to his manacles, and after a embarrassingly failed attempt at hammering them apart, he used the donkey.

Burning it with a heated sword, the donkey took off, making the machinery start up. Placing the chain in between the gears and levers of the machinery, it snapped clean through, giving Erik the freedom of his hands.

Now if he could get them off entirely.

Before he could formulate how to go about that, the door of the smithy opened. Erik ducked behind a rather large crate, praying he would not be spotted. He could just see a pair of people coming in, a girl in wet clothing, wrapped in a jacket and a handsome young man with dark hair. _Christine…_

What on earth were they doing here?

"What happened here?" Will said, looking at the donkey, which was still running in circles. Christine walked over to him and calmed him down, cooing softly in his ear. Will noticed a hammer lying on an anvil. "That's not where I left you," he said with confusion in his voice. He then noticed a hat lying on the table. It looked rather familiar.

As he reached out to touch it, a cold blade of metal rapped his hand. Will looked up to see the pirate standing there, his sword aimed directly at Will.

Christine gasped when she saw Erik, and quickly picked up a spare sword, ready to defend her cousin with her last breath. Her actions startled Erik, allowing Will to pick up his own sword.

"Christine, get out of here," Will said calmly and coldly, never taking his eyes off Erik.

"No," she said, coming to stand by Will.

"I mean it Christine, get out of here!"

Christine opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off, this time by Erik. "You'd best be doing as you're told, girl." He didn't want her here, not when there was a good chance he could kill her cousin.

"Get the soldiers," Will said to her, as she ran off through a door.

Christine spared the two one last glance, wishing terribly she could stay and help Will. But in her common sense knew that with her weakened state she would only get in the way and the only way she could help was finding the soldiers.

But deep in her heart, Christine had to admit that the real reason she left was she didn't she handle fighting Erik. Even after he brutalized, lied to, threatened her, he still tugged at her heart.

Erik watched his maenad leave with shielded eyes, not letting her beloved cousin see the desire that was quelling within him. At the moment she held her sword aloft at him, Erik felt himself go harder than he ever thought he could. Her eyes her blazing and her still damp hair wild, making her look like a war goddess of old.

Erik mentally shook himself, focusing on the handsome youth standing before him with hating eyes.

"Do you think that's wise, boy?" Will looked at Erik confused. "Crossing blades with a pirate?" Erik continued.

The boy did not back down for which Erik had to, begrudgingly, admire him for. "You hurt and threatened my cousin."

Erik grinned and grated his sword along the boy's blade. "Only a little."

Their swords came together in a silent, yet deadly clash. Soft parries and thrusts, neither man moving save his sword arm. Erik studied the boy. He was good, Erik's pride allowed him to admit.

"You know what you're doing, I'll give you that," Erik said with a trace of pride in his voice. This boy was somewhat growing on him, due to how much he cared and risked for Christine. Erik seriously hoped to get out of here before something happened to the boy, knowing the devastation Christine would feel from it would just about kill her.

And she would most likely kill _him_ in revenge.

"But how's your footwork boy?" Erik stepped to the side, the boy going oppositely. "Very good." He stepped again, and the boy followed so that their was no one blocking Erik's way to the door.

"Ta!" Erik said with a smirk and headed for the door.

Will cursed himself for his stupidity. With a bit of reckless quick thinking, he threw his sword at the door, effectively jamming the lock.

Erik felt the blade whiz past his face. He saw the boy's sword, shuddering in the bar that locked the door. He gripped the handle, effectively stilling it, and pulled it out.

Or at least it should have come out.

To his great displeasure, Erik found he could not remove the damn sword, so firmly was it embedded in its confining wood. Erik started to turn towards the boy, but before he caught him in his sight, there was a rather painful blow to his head, and then there was nothing.

Will watched the pirate fall, unconscious, to the dirty smithy floor. He had heard the soldiers coming with Christine and, wishing to make the pirate easier to arrest, grabbed the nearest thing he could find, a hammer, and threw it at his head.

He saw the red clad soldiers burst into the room, the Commodore de Changy in the lead. Christine followed after them, running straight into Will's arms. She was still wet and shivering, her skin pale as snow and hands like ice. Will held her protectively, wishing for the soldiers to take the pirate and go, letting his cousin get some well needed rest.

Christine had run through the streets with all her might, coming across some soldiers rather quickly. Raoul had been among them. When he saw her there, he wasted precious time rebuking her for parading about in such an unwomanly manner, saying that his future wife should behave more ladylike. Christine's temper had been sparked and she slapped him, shouting that she was _not _his future wife and would never be his wife.

Raoul's anger had been fierce, saying that she would marry him, not matter what she wanted. He said he would have her carted off to a nunnery if she did not consent. Gillette, giving her a pitying glance, reminded Raoul that she knew where the fugitive was. They hastened to the smithy and found Erik unconscious, Will glaring at his recumbent body.

She sought her cousin's comforting embrace, deliberately looking away from Raoul and Erik.

"I thank you Mr. Brown, you have assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive," Raoul said, never taking his eyes off Christine.

"Just doing my civic duty, sir," Will replied, sensing it was not the cold that caused Christine to tremble so.

The soldiers shackled Erik once more, this time his feet as well as his hands, and carted him away. They left the young girl in wet clothes crying on her cousin's shoulder, for she knew full well what fate awaited Erik the following morn.


End file.
